Start of Something Special
by candy-belle
Summary: Clint tries to do something nice for his handler's birthday. Only trouble is he doesn't know when it is. Pre-slash fic with Clint and Phil featuring ust, friendship, teasing and a very thoughtful-Clint


**Title:** Start of Something Special  
**Rating:** 12  
**Summary:** Clint tries to do something nice for his handler's birthday. Only trouble is he doesn't know when it is.  
**Featuring:** Clint Barton, Phil Coulson, pre-slash Phil/Clint

**Genre/warnings:** ust, friendship, teasing and a very thoughtful-Clint  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters of Marvel Movies. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.  
**Notes:** written as a pressie for adira_tam hope this fits the prompt and that you like this hun. Anyway, as always this is unbeta'd so any mistakes you find, please, please, please forgive (I mean it PLEASE!)

**On to the story…**

"Aww come on please!" whined Clint giving Agent Hill his best set of pleading puppy eyes.

"No," replied Hill sparing him half a glance before turning her attention back to her command screen.

"Please," tried Clint again going so far as to nudge her chair with his foot.

"Damn it, Barton," huffed Hill finally looking at him properly, "No." She held his gaze then shaking her head in disbelief she conceded, "Anyway I couldn't even if I wanted to. I don't know when it is."

"You don't?" queried Clint his face crumpling in disbelief, "But if you don't know then who..."

"You could try the Director," offered Hill her face dangerously blank, although her eyes were sparkling with laughter.

"Shit no way!" exclaimed Clint. He gave a low sad sigh and scratching the back of his head he mused, "Wonder if Natasha could..."

"Get out!" ordered Hill, pointing towards the exit, "Go on, get out of here. If you're going to start doing unethical research, I don't want to know."

"Yes ma'am," grinned Clint snapping off a sharp salute before turning on his heel and jogging away off to terrorise someone else.

xoooo

"But you've known him for years," protested Clint starting at Sitwell over his cup of coffee.

"Your point being?" asked Sitwell leaning back in his chair and eyeing up the pouting asset opposite him.

"That you must know when it is," huffed Clint, "I mean what do you two talk about when I'm stuck outside during a mission?"

"Honestly?" asked Sitwell toying with his spoon.

"Yeah" grinned Clint genuinely interested, "What happens while I'm busy freezing my balls off outside?"

"Not a lot," replied Sitwell with a little sigh, "Sometimes we'll discuss snacks, sometimes TV but most of the time we discuss you. And how we're going to clean up any messes…"

"Hey!" protested Clint, "I haven't caused any major problems in age and…"

"The messes tend to happen around you," conceded Sitwell a slight smile tugging at his lips, "You did ask."

"Yeah," huffed Clint, his shoulders slumped slightly as he failed to obtain the information he had been hunting for. He slid out of the booth and was about to walk away when Sitwell called, "You know the date doesn't actually matter. The fact you thought of it would mean a lot."

"Really?" asked Clint his face lighting up in barely concealed delight.

"I think so," shrugged Sitwell sinking back against the booth adding, "Of course he could take it the wrong way and never talk to you again. But hey those are the risks you take."

"You suck," snapped Clint as he stormed out of the dinner not noticing the smile playing over Sitwell's lips or the fact that the senior handler pulled out his phone and dialled a very familiar number.

xoooo

"Talk to me, Barton,"

Clint smiled as Coulson's voice echoed through his comm unit.

"What would you like to know, Sir?" he replied slowing his walk so he could listen properly to the voice in his ear.

"Location?"

Clint didn't bother answering. Instead he sped up, rounded the corner at a sprint and knocked on the familiar office door. Without waiting for a response he opened the door and stepped through.

Coulson didn't even look up from his computer instead he pointed to the couch ordering, "Sit,"

Clint bit back the urge to bark in response and instead obeyed the short order. Throwing himself onto the battered couch, he took the time to enjoy the view opposite him. There was something deliciously tempting about Coulson sitting at his desk looking so thoroughly wholesome.

It was a few minutes before Coulson finished tapping away and when he did he turned to face Clint properly and with a weary sigh he asked, "What are you up to?"

"Me?" queried Clint aiming for innocent and coming off thoroughly guilty

"I've had three calls, two texts and far too many e-mails from various people telling me to tighten your leash. Telling me that you have been causing havoc and asking very inappropriate questions and…"

"They weren't inappropriate!" protested Clint frowning at the implication, "I swear. I just, I…" he gave a huff and slumping back against the couch and started to glare at the world in general and at Coulson in particular.

Staring at him for a few moments Coulson slowly pushed himself away from the desk, rounded the far corner and came to stand within a few feet of Clint. He stared down at his now sulking and allowing his mask to slip he sighed and murmured, "Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing," huffed Clint, a seriously frown and pout marring his features.

Sinking onto the arm of the couch he nudged Clint's shoulder ordering gently, "Talk to me."

"I just wanted to know so I could do something nice and no knew answer so I have to ask more people and then they didn't know and I…it's not fair I didn't do anything wrong!" huffed Clint crossing his arms over his chest.

"What were you trying to find out?" asked Coulson.

"Doesn't matter," murmured Clint not daring to look up – he didn't want to see Coulson's expression.

"Clint," the use of his first name had Clint's head snapping up and he found himself staring into Coulson's eyes, the knowing gaze surprisingly soft, "Tell me."

Clint held out for a few moments then gave him sighing, "I was trying to find out when your birthday was. I just…"

"Why didn't you ask me?"

"Because I wanted it to be a surprise and I…"

"You wanted to surprise me?"

Clint nodded, feeling decidedly stupid and wishing he'd never thought about trying to do something nice for his handler.

"Saturday."

"What?"

"Saturday," replied Coulson offering him a small smile, "My birthday, my proper actual birthday is this Saturday."

"Really?" grinned Clint his face suddenly alive with hope again.

"Really," nodded Coulson. He waited a few moments before adding, "And I don't have any plans…yet."

Clint was up and off the couch before Coulson had even finished speaking. Without even calling a goodbye he vanished from sight, leaving Coulson slightly bemused, perched on the edge of his now rather empty couch.

X ooo xoxox ooxo xooxxxx

As the lights came back up Coulson glanced over and smiled. Clint beamed back at him loving the relaxed look on his handler's face.

"How did you…how did you know this was happening?" asked Coulson as they walked out of the small cinema and into the crowded foyer.

"I just did," replied Clint, beaming at the way Coulson was thumbing through the programme.

He'd learnt about the Captain America Film Club years ago and originally had planned to use it as a way to annoy his new but much talked about handler. But then he'd actually met Coulson, he'd actually found himself classing the unassuming handler as a friend and now as something more. His smile grew as he watched Coulson drool over one of the memorabilia stalls. Making sure Coulson was otherwise engaged; he padded away and held a quick conversation with the other memorabilia stallholder. Shaking hands with the proprietor he took the small package he'd ordered before the show and made his way back to Coulson. Brushing his hand down the firm back he asked brightly, "See anything you like"?

"Not really," sighed Coulson, "I've got almost all of this and in some cases more than 1 version." He glanced at Clint then almost visibly pulling himself together he huffed, "You must think me very foolish for liking this sor..."

"Not a hope in hell. I think it's pretty cool and hey you know the old saying everyone needs a hobby." He paused then glancing around he realised they were the only ones left in the small foyer. Taking a deep breath he licked his lips and feeling more nervous than he had ever felt in his life, he held out the small package and murmured, "here I ...well I…" his voice gave out and he ended dup just shoving the package into Coulson's hand.

Coulson stared at it a moment then at Clint before looking back down. Seeing how skittish Clint looked he didn't drag the moment out, instead he very smartly opened the package his face lighting up as he pulled out a mint collectors card. The missing card that completed his collection. Staring at the card in amazement he finally found his voice squeaking, "How?"

"Told you I wanted to do something special and…"

"Thank you," interrupted Coulson with more feeling than Clint had ever heard in his handler's voice. For a moment there was an uncertain silence then finally tearing his eyes away from the card Coulson murmured, "I make a mean breakfast pancake, they even have chocolate chips in and I…" his voice faded into an embarrassed silence.

Clint gave a little huffing chuckle and asked "Are you…are you offering…breakfast? Really?" his couldn't keep the grin out of his voice or off his face.

"Only if you're interested," mumbled Coulson.

"I'm interested," agreed Clint far too quick to be cool, "God you have no idea how interested I am, Coulson."

Coulson nodded then as they started to walk towards the entrance he paused and waiting for Clint to glance at him he held the archer's gaze before murmuring, "Phil."

"What?" breathed Clint his eyes widening in surprise

"Phil," repeated Coulson, "You can call me Phil. When we're off the clock," he qualified, "Seems only proper since we're about to become far better acquainted. You can call me Phil."

"Yes Si…" began Clint only to catch himself just in time and change it to a soft breathless, "Phil."

The soft smile that broke over Coulson's face at the sound of hi name was a sight Clint knew he would never get enough of. Grinning in pure boyish delight he repeated the word earning a knowing huff from Phil but for once there was no reprimand and for Clint that meant everything in the world.

FIN x


End file.
